Behind Closed Doors
by Secretwindow1
Summary: Wilbur Robinson, in everbody elses eyes, is the spoiled rich kid. The kid everybody hated just because his father was the world famous inventor, Cornelius Robinson. If they knew the truth, the secrets behind closed doors, they wouldn't judge him so much.
1. Judging the book by the cover

**Yep, I've started a new fic. Behind Closed Doors is a fic I thought up last night, while thinking of Meet the Robinsons, and a oneshot I did (Just One More Glance) and just started typing.**

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**Judging The Book By Its Cover.**

"I don't want to go to school, mama," ten year old Wilbur whined, looking up at his mother with dark brown eyes. "Please don't make me."

"Wilbur, what in the world would make you not want to go to school? Just week's ago you were all for it, now you never want to leave the house." Franny tsked.

Wilbur sighed and looked at his feet. He could tell her, but she wouldn't understand. She never really understood why he said or did something, he usually got scolded or in trouble for the stuff he did and she didn't understand. He shook his head. "No reason."

"No reason is not a good enough reason to stay home," Franny said, then suddenly became panicky. "Are you sick sweetie?"

She grabbed his cheeks and pryed open his mouth, looking down his throat, ignoring his gagged crys.

"Tonsils aren't swollen," she murmured, then she pressed a palm to his forhead. "No temperture...You're not sick."

"I know that mom," Wilbur sighed. "If you had let me tell you-"

"Oh dear!" Franny exclaimed, glancing at the clock. "You're going to be late for school if we don't head out now." She quickly pushed him from behind, out the door. "Scooch, right now!"

..:J.O.Y Middle School:.

Franny kissed Wilburs forhead and gave him a tiny 'motherly' pat on the behind, which Wilbur gave a annoyed groan about, and walked into the school building, turning around once to wave good-bye to his mother, who was smiling and blowing him kisses, obviously trying to embarass the poor child.

He stepped into the school and felt as if a rush of cold had hit him, many of the children turned and gave him the worst looks they could manage, others just turned away or smiled wickedly at him, planning for harassment later today.

Wilbur just walked forward, ignoring the others the best he could manage, and headed towards his locker. He walked up to the locker and opened it, pulling out one of his books, when he heard the snide voice behind him, the voice that just so happened to belong to Tony Blaire.

"So Robinson, back are you? I thought this school was to good for you."

Wilbur hated the blonde boy with his life, he had just started J.O.Y Middle School a few weeks ago, and from the first day when everybody in the class had learned his first and last name, he had been taunted as the spoiled rich kid of Cornelius Robinson.

And now Tony was ragging on him just because he had missed one day of school.

"Shut up and leave me alone, Tony," Wilbur said through gritted teeth. He didn't need to get into a fight today, not after the scolding's and warning's his mother had given him only a week back, when he had smacked a boy half his size just because the boy called him a name.

And, like always, his mother didn't understand. And he got in trouble. And like always, his father thought he knew more then Franny did when dealing with a 'badly behaved little boy' and Wilbur got more then a scolding, which usually happened whenever he got into bad situations.

And, like always, Cornelius let him have no mercy and ignored his pleads, telling Wilbur as Wilbur endured his punishment, that he would have to behave better and quit getting into trouble as much.

And, like always, Wilbur ignored his father, feeling no remorse for his actions, instead he felt anger towards his father and refused to make eye contact with him, and refused to talk to him the whole day. Maybe even the whole week.

"Wilbur Robinson, the boy who doesn't need school." Tony sneered, walked around Wilbur and stepping in front of his open locker, facing the shorter boy. "So, how's daddy today? Did he give you your lunch money today, or did he just give you enough to buy out the whole school?"

Wilbur glared at Tony. "My dad isn't that rich." he lied. Of course his father was that rich. Wilbur knew that, how else would he have a chargeball screen in his room? How else could they afford the huge mansion?

Tony pushed Wilburs shoulders, making the smaller kid stumble backwards. "Admit it. You're spoiled."

"No I'm not!" Wilbur screamed.

"Yes you are!" Tony screamed back. "You are and you know it."

Wilbur gave Tony a glare, grabbed the locker door and slammed it with all his might on the taller boys head, then took off to his first class as the bell rang.

"Robinson!" roared Tony, grabbing his head and looking for the lanky child dizzily.

But he was nowhere.

..:First period and lunch:.

To die would have been easier then and there then to have run, because now Wilbur was sure Tony was going to pound him after school.

At least Tony didn't have the exact same classes as him. He thanked the Lord above countless times for that.

He couldn't concentrate on math, his teacher was talking pointless things to him. As if he wanted to learn math he could barely understand, he wouldn't use it at all in his life anyway.

He couldn't concentrate on history either, that was always impossible for him. He just wasen't good at history, there was to much to remember in that class.

Lunch time arrived quickly, and Wilbur trotted across the lunch room to a table he knew Tony would never see, and sat, looking at his hands. He should probably go and get his lunch, but he didn't want to take the chance of meeting with Tony.

Finally after what seemed like forever, Wilbur stood and marched over to the center and looked at the lunch lady behind the counter.

"Sorry hun, its closed," she sniffed. "you should have gotten the food while it was hot and ready."

Wilbur put on sad, hungry eyes. "Please miss? Can't you just give me cold food? Here," he dug in his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. "Instead of two dollars I'll give you a three dollar extra, if you give me cold food."

The lunch lady looked him over, then got out a ladle and spooned what looked like yesterdays food onto a tray and handed it to the hungry kid.

"Thank you," Wilbur said then walked back to his table. He sat and went to lift his fork to his mouth when he suddenly heard a loud yell behind him:

"Wilbur Robinson bribes the lunch lady! Wilbur's got so much money he could buy out this whole school and make all your parents run to protect their jobs, because he can buy them out to. And you know what else is so great? He thinks he's better then all of you guys here! No! Infact, he told me, he _knows_ he's better then all of you guys!"

Wilbur frowned and turned to glare at Tony Blaire, who was standing in the middle of the cafiteria with his goons, Wyatt and Bruce, smiling as all eyes turned on Wilbur. All angry, judging eyes.

"Ever heard of the saying 'Don't judge a book by its cover'?" Wilbur yelled to him, angry about being the center of attention and being called out.

"Sure have." Tony said, crossing his tough arms. Bruce and Wyatt followed his actions.

"Then don't judge me." Wilbur said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Tony uncrossed his arms and stroad towards Wilbur, grabbing the back of the smaller boys head, grabbing a fist full of hair and pulling him backwards to face him upside down, ignoring his gasp of pain.

"I'll do whatever the heck I please," he said evily, then slammed Wilburs face into the lunch table as hard as he could, almost breaking Wilburs nose. "Payback, brat, for that little locker inccident you pulled back there."

Wilbur just lifted his head and stared ahead of himself, holding his aching, bleeding nose, trying to fight back tears of embarassment and pain.

"Watch your back, Robinson," Tony muttered, then spat on Wilbur's lunch and stalked away, with Wyatt and Bruce gwuaffing behind him like two giant chimpanzees, and the kids in the lunch room laughing at the raven haired boy holding his bleeding nose.

He just lay his head on the table and stayed there as the bell rang and people began piling out of the room, leaving him alone in the lunch room, moaning into the small table.


	2. Spoiled Rich Brat

**Hello everybody! Here is chapter two. **

**Tony is a brat, isn't he? He's a bad boy. -tsk tsk- I like him. :P Him and Nancy would be so good together, when I think of it. Hmm...**

**Well, I don't got much to say about this chapter. Just enjoy it!**

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**Chapter two**

**Spoiled Rich Brat.**

"Wilbur? Sweetie! What happened to you?" Franny cried, running to her little boy as he entered the mansion, it was much to early for him to be home from school.

He wore on his face a bandage over his nose, the bandage apparentley not strong enough, as some blood had soaked through.

She grabbed him around the neck and hugged him, causing him to try and push away, but gave up. "I'm okay.."

"What happened?" Franny asked again, this time slower, looking her boy in the eye.

He looked her back in the eyes, trying to keep down his quivering lip, then suddenly broke into tears and hugged his mother, Franny realised how young he actually was right now. Still just a baby.

"Honey, its okay. Shh, sweetie. Just tell me whats wrong."

He rested his head on her shoulder and stared straight ahead and sniffed. "Tony hit me against a table. He almost broke my nose, the nurse said that he moved something in there and it caused my nose to bleed alot." He sniffed, and moved his head, ajusting it on his mothers shoulder.

She shook her head. "Honey, why did he hit you against a table?"

"Because...I hit my locker door in his face?" Wilbur said slowly and unsuringly, knowing as soon as the sentance was over his mother was going to take it the wrong way.

"Wilbur!" She cried, pulling him off of her comforting shoulder, brought him around, and made him face her, holding both of his arms. "Why in the world? Haven't we taught you better then to start fights?"

"But mom!" Cried Wilbur, his voice squeaking.

"Do _not _'but mom' me, young man!" Franny said warningly. "You do not, I repeat _not_, start fights. You know that mister, how many times have I told you that?"

"But _mo-om_," Wilbur whined, but Franny let go of one of his arm and wagged a finger in his face, so close to his nose she could have hit the tip off any second.

"No buts, didn't I just say that? To your room, young man. Go do your homework."

"But my nose!" Wilbur moaned, pointing to his small bandaged nose.

Franny looked at him, then looked his nose over. "Its fine, it'll be sore for awhile, but its fine. Now scooch, into your room."

She gave him another one of her 'motherly' pats, which Wilbur was begining to think were getting a little harder each time, and shooed the sad boy into his room.

...:J.O.Y Middle School:.

Wilbur entered the school building and practically ran to his locker. He wanted nothing more then to just get to his locker and not meet with Tony, then get to his class.

No such luck.

"Robinson, still got that bandage? Did I break your nose yesterday? Because if I did, the crookedness of it would only make your face look just a teeny bit less ugly."

Wilbur could feel his face growing hot with anger, his blood boiling inside him. He shut his locker and turned, deciding that it would be better to just ignore Tony today. He didn't need his mother yelling at him again for getting into a fight, and he didn't need his nose to be broken for sure. Or any other part of his body.

He took a step forward but Tony stepped in front of the shorter boy. "I see you do have the bandage still."

"Move."

"No."

"Move NOW."

"Ooh, now you're acting brave. Yelling at me, ha!" Tony gave a small chuckle and put his palm on the whole of Wilburs forhead and pushed him backwards into his locker, knocking the back of his head hard on the steel door.

"Let me give you a hint Robinson, don't try to act brave. It doesn't do you much good."

"I'm brave!" Wilbur cried, pushing Tony's hand off of his face, moving forward. "I've always been brave. And I'm not letting the likes of _you _make me scared anymore! I've taken enough of your crap, you stupid-Ah!"

Wilbur let out a short, small scream as Tony gave him a swift kick in the stomach, pushing the smaller boy backwards into the lockers and onto the floor. He grabbed his stomach and began gasping, the air had been knocked out of him.

"That is by far the worst move you have ever made," Tony snarled as he used the tip of his shoe to touch Wilburs bandaged, hurt nose. Wilbur let out a small, short, gasp of pain and Tony gave a small evil grin.

"Found your weak spot, you stupid little spoiled rich brat."

Tony raised his foot to kick Wilbur in the face but Wilbur was up quickly, his fists balled and anger on his face.

"Dont you _ever _call me a spoiled rich brat!" He said through gritted teeth.

"I speak the truth Robinson!" Tony hissed. "Thats what you are. A stupid, boring, dumb, idiotic spoiled little rich br-"

Tony never finished his sentance, instead it was replaced with a squeak of pain as Tony collapsed, grabbing himself in pain, curling on the floor whining.

Wilbur blinked and stopped, realising what he had just done. He looked up from Tony and realised the kids in the hall were staring at him, mouths agap. One boy, who was at least twelve, turned and ran down the hall, the way Wilbur knew to lead to the principle's office.

No way. No way was he going to get in trouble with the school. He had enough trouble with Tony, with his mother. _His mother._

She'll kill him. If the principle comes, he'll tell her and she'll kill him.

Wilbur turned and went to run, to get out of the school to anywhere, when Tony reached out and tripped Wilbur, the raven haired boys face hit the ground. A sickining cracking noise was heard and Wilbur swore under his breath at Tony, staring down at the ground as blood poured from his nose. He grabbed his nose, which was in the worst ammount of pain he had ever been in and tried to get back up, but Tony had a firm grip his ankle.

"No way, Robinson," Tony hissed, gritting his teeth. "No way are you getting away and leaving me here."

"Robinson! Blaire!"

Wilbur grimaced, feeling the urge to bite his tongue in two, as he heard Mr. Fiends sharp, angry voice behind him.

The taller, somewhat heavy man was balding and had ruffled brown hair around the sides of his head. He stalked over to the two and grabbed them up by their collars, looking angry.

"Robinson, is what Zac just told me tru-Good lord son! What happened to your nose?"

Wilbur let go out his nose and wiped the blood off on his jeans, realising the whole bottom half of his face was probably red with blood. "Tony tripped me, sir. I hit the ground and my nose broke."

Mr. Fiend shot a look at Tony. "You tripped him?"

Tony gave the most pathetic look he could muster and said in a sad tone: "I didn't, really sir! I came to see how his nose was, and he suddenly kicked me in," he put his voice in a whisper. "_the bad place. _I must have hit him while going down, Mr. Fiend!"

Mr. Fiend just gave him a look that purely said he didn't believe him. "Thats not what Zac said, you lied to me Mr. Blaire. That'll cost you a heavy price."

Tony actually looked worried, he winced at the sharpness of Mr. Fiends voice.

"Go, right now to my office young man, we'll discuss your doubled punishment while Wilbur is gone." Mr. Fiend said, letting go of Tony's collar. He then looked at Wilbur. "I want you to go straight to the nurses office, then come straight to my office. Don't think that just because you're hurt your not getting out of punishment, got it?"

Wilbur nodded sadly, his knees deciding to go weak on him. The thing they usually did whenever his father said, in that menacing voice of his, that he was to be punished.

"Go."

He let go of Wilbur and the boy made his way to the nurses office, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

.:Mr. Fiends office:.

Mr. Albert Fiend paced behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back.

The two boys sat before the desk, both four feet from each other. They both felt watching Mr. Fiend pace up and down, looking angry, was enough punishment. But of course, Mr. Fiend wouldn't think so.

Wilbur touched his bandaged nose and winced. He had just returned from the nurses office, his nose had been broken in a place up by the bridge, which was one of the worst places to break your nose.

Finally he stopped pacing. He turned on his heel and sat in his chair, steepling his fingers Mr. Burns style.

"Now you two, you understand fighting is not permitted at school."

"Yes sir," Wilbur said quietly. "I know that."

"Then why in the world were you two fighting?"

Wilbur opened his mouth but Tony screamed out first:

"Its his freaking fault! He's been acting like a total snob all year, and harassing everybody!"

Wilbur just left the shocked look on his face, leaving his mout agap.

Mr. Fiend pointed a threatening finger at Tony. "Do not, _ever_, use that language in this school. Somebody your age should not be using such words." Tony just rolled his eyes and slumped backwards into his chair. Mr. Fiend turned onto Wilbur.

"I don't believe you've been harassing anybody, or have been acting like a snob."

Wilbur nodded, relieved.

"So...Are we going to be punished?" Tony asked, sounding very bored.

"Yes. Both of you, two weeks suspension. And don't think you'll be getting away at home, I'll be contacting your parents and I'm sure they'll be waiting for you. Tony, remember the other punishment you've been given too."

Wilbur sighed, not caring how else Tony was punished. Yep, his parents were going to be waiting for him. Angry expressions and arms crossed, ready to yell at him for his miss deeds, like always. Wilbur wished with his life that he hadn't touched Tony, and had just left him alone.

He started, "But Mr. Fiend-"

"Don't 'but Mr. Fiend' me, young man," Mr. Fiend said, pointing his finger again. Tony gave a amused chuckle. "That is your punishment, you are very lucky you didn't do anything else, or I'd have to take drastic messures. Now, I'm going to call your parents, I want you both to turn your chairs and face the wall. Don't speak to each other."

There was a sound of their chairs moving as they turned around and Mr. Fiend left the room to call their parents. Wilbur placed his face in his hands and just sighed, holding back tears of anger.


	3. I Want Out

**Hello everybody!**

**Yes, its been awhile since I've updated. But school started, and it makes it just a little bit harder to write and update. D'oh! Now, I had finished this about...three days ago and was going to post it but uh...-rubs back of neck-...I've been busy. Now I really need to get my chapter of the webstory done! I know what to do, but can't seem to get it down...I will though, soon enough. **

**Now, the eye contact subject is taken from the movie _Josie and the Pussy-Cats, _anybody whose seen it, high five! -hand in air, nobody high fives me- sweet. Isn't Breckin Mayer cute in it:P **

**OH! If anybody knows who Dana Matherson is before the chapter is up, (yes the answer is on the end of the chapter, no peaking!) you get a HUGE praise. x) Yay you! -claps-**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

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**I Want Out.**

Wilbur could have taken anything, fight a cougar on a steep cliff, wrestle a crocodile, fight a bear with his bear hands, be alone in a small room with Mr. Fiend when he was hungry.

Anything.

Anything except to go to his parents, who he knew were going to be in the entrance hall, waiting for him.

His mothers stern look would be cast upon him, and his fathers narrowed eyes would make his knees go weak. Then he'd stare at his shoes and try his best to get out of a big punishment.

Which, of course, never worked.

Why he kept trying, he never knew. They always caught on.

He was at the Robinsons gate, he had walked home. Something he did alot, as he was deeply embarassed of his mother picking him up at school because she waved to all his female classmates, screaming things as: "Ooh honey, is that her? The one that you talk about?" or "How sweet! Is she the girl you mumble about in your sleep?"

Which of course, to a ten year old boy, or any boy of any age, was extremley embarassing.

He also walked home today because he feared his mother. He did not want her to to scold him on the way home. For some reason, it was worse then at home.

Pushing the gate open halfheartily he dragged his feet into the Robinsons garden and to the front steps.

Spike jumped up and opened his mouth to speak, Wilbur shot him a look that plainly said "don't" and the cousin blinked, sinking back into his pot. Dmitri just stayed put, watching.

He stood still in front of the front door, thinking it'd be easier just to turn and wander around the outside for awhile.

He was just thinking of turning around when his fathers voice boomed from the speaker on the side of the mansion:

"Wilbur Robinson, just open the door and get in here."

Wilbur would have cussed if he didn't know his father could probably see him, probably because of one of his new inventions.

He opened the big doors and stepped in nerveously, eyeing his parents who were standing, as he had guess, in the front hall.

"Wilbur," his mother started, moving towards him.

"Let me explain first!" Wilbur exclaimed, putting his hands together as if he was praying, looking at his mother with pleading eyes.

Franny stopped and eyed him, she didn't look angry, just concerned. Cornelius, on the other hand, looked ticked.

"Okay. Lets hear your side of the story." she said, glancing at Cornelius.

Wilbur let out a breath of air and placed his hands behind his back, something he did alot lately, and stared above his parents eyes, hoping that his parents would think he was looking them in the eyes.

He took a deep breath. "Okay...Tony attacked me at my locker. I wasen't doing anything at all to him, and he came up to me and started to smart mouth me, he insulted me and pushed me down. And he was going to fully break me nose if I didn't stop him." He pointed at his nose. "But it got broken anyway. I did what the first thought in my mind told me to do, and that was to bring him down. If I hadn't, he would have hurt me. Hurt me worse then anybody could have. Even worse then Dana Matherson could have done to Roy in that old book you made me read, mom." Wilbur's heart pain lessened when he saw his mothers mouth turn into a small smile, he knew she was always happy whenever he had read a book. "But he tripped me when I ran."

"Why did you run?" Cornelius asked, his voice startling calm. It worried Wilbur.

"Because I was late for my first class." Wilbur answered, he rearanged his hands behind his back, holding onto his thumb. "And because a kid was going to get the principal. Tony grabbed my ankle and I went down. I hit my face on the ground and broke my nose, then went to the nurses office then to Mr. Fiends. Then I came home."

He hoped this would do. They had heard the story told from Mr. Fiend, now from him. Hopefully they'd believe their own son over a balding, fat, old man.

He moved his hands around behind him, covering behind him, almost protectingly.

Franny glanced at her husband, then opened her mouth to speak, but Cornelius talked first:

"Your nose is completley broken?"  
Wilbur nodded sullenly, again rearanging his hands, his heart getting heavy.

He could feel his fathers anger, even though Cornelius kept his voice calm.

His father was always angry with him now, just because he got into fights. It wasen't his fault he got into them!

If the kids at school would stop provoking him, stop yelling at him, stop insulting him, then maybe he wouldn't get into so many fights. His father just didn't understand that.

He never did. And probably never would.

His father sighed and turned to Franny.

"He's grounded." He said to his wife.

"What!" Wilbur exclaimed, throwing his hand up to his forhead. "Thats not fair!"

Cornelius turned to him. "Do _not _tell me whats fair, young man!"

"But it isn't fair, dad!" Wilbur practically shouted. "I was only defending myself!"

Franny sighed. "Wilbur, don't speak to your father in that tone,"

She must have noticed Cornelius biting his tongue, almost in two, and staring down at his son harshly, as if he was trying hard not to lash out.

Why was she defending dad? Why wasen't she defending him?"

"But mom - "

"No buts," Cornelius said firmly. "you are grounded. No TV, no games, no friends - " _What friends? _" - No anything. Not until your suspension is lifted, and no sooner."

Wilbur was near tears, his ears were hot, almost burning. He couldn't believe this, how could anybody in their right mind call this fair?

"Don't look at me like that."

He was glaring at his father and he hadn't realised it. He turned his gaze towards the floor and glared at it instead.

"If you look at me like that again," Cornelius said in a scary voice. _Why was he so strict now? _"you will go straight to your room, and you'll get something worth glaring about. Got that?"

Wilbur shook his head.

Why wasen't his mom saying anything?

"This isn't fair, dad. I was defending myself!"

"Which is fine and dandy. But you still got into a fight with him, and hurt the boy."

"He hurt me first!" Wilbur snapped, thrusting a finger to point at his nose. "He broke my flipping nose, remember? You just don't get it! He's a jerk, he's always been a jerk to me! He broke my nose, dad! Broke it! And when I come home, you _ground _me?"

His ears were getting hotter now, and he shook with anger.

Why didn't his dad get it? Why was his mother so quiet?

"Wilbur Wesley Robinson."

"NO!"

"Young man - "

"Its not fair!"

"Eye contact, right _now_!"

Wilbur mentally kicked himself, he wanted to do as his english teacher had told each one of his class members to do when they weren't paying attention, give themselfs a good kick in the rear and listen. He'd blown it, he'd blown it trying to defend himself.

He hated this, whenever his father told him eye contact, he knew he was in trouble. It, of course, was one of the most stupid punishments his father had ever used on him, and he hated doing it.

He looked his father in the eye, something he did not want to do. As soon as they're eyes met, the anger in his heart amounted to full capacity.

"Hand."

Wilbur sighed, trying not to roll his eyes. _This again?_

He extended his hand, still looking his dad in the eyes, and took the slap on the hand without a outcry.

He let his smarting hand fall to his side and stared at his fathers face.

Why is it that parents thought that giving their children pain would teach them anything? All it did for Wilbur was want to fight back, to scream, to cuss his father out. To get him back.

Cornelius then suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around harshly, something that only happened three times in his life, and made him face the living room.

He faught the urge to protect himself, to run or free himself. Instead he just stood, ready for anything.

"Go to your room."

Except that.

His father caught him off gaurd. To his _room_? What? He was expecting more.

Wilbur didn't answer his father, instead he just glanced at his mother, who was looking at him with a frown, then marched to his bedroom, more upset then he had been his entire life. More angry then he was when Tony busted his nose.

.:Wilburs Bedroom:.

_Knock knock...Knock knock._

He didn't answer.

He didn't want to know who was on the other side of the door. He turned over on the bean bag chair he was on and faced the wall, being careful not to bump his nose.

"Wilbur?"

He jumped. It was his mother.

What did she want?

"What?"

"I want to come in, sweetie," she answered.

Her voice was small, it sounded like she felt bad for him. If she did, why didn't she stand up for him?

"...Alright."

She opened the door and gave his back a sympethic look. There he was, lying there on one of his bean bag chairs, his back to her. His poor nose broken, and he was probably torn up inside.

She walked over and sat next to him, placing her hand on his hip, trying to comfort him. She put her hand on his head and smoothed his hair.

"Why didn't you defend me?"

Franny sighed. "Wilbur, I couldn't. You know what you did was wrong, and the scolding you just got isn't as bad as it could have been."

"You could have still - "

"No, Wilbur. No I couldn't have. If you father hadn't done anything, I would have. Not in that way, but I would have done _something_."

She stopped smoothing his hair for a second and looked at him, he turned over and looked her in the eyes. Why was it so much easier to look her in the eyes, instead of _his fathers_?

"I don't want to go to that school anymore." Wilbur sighed, he sat up and looked at his mother. "Please don't make me anymore. I want out."

That mean't more then just leaving school...So much more.

She frowned and put her arms around him, embracing him in a hug. "Honey, it'll be okay. I promise."

He flinched. She promised him alot of things.

"Mom...Do I have to be grounded? I mean, I was defending myself."

She let him go and looked into his pleading eyes, sighed then placed her chin in her hand. "You know, I don't think you need to be grounded. I'll talk to your father, I think with that broken nose you've suffered enough."

She smiled at him and he smiled back.

"Thanks mom." He launched himself at her and squeezed her tightly.

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**Dana Matherson is the bully in the movie and book _Hoot._ :)**


	4. The Assignment

**Yes yes, I finally have updated this! Amazing, I know. It took me long enough, but with school and stuff, y'know. **

**Well, we've finally come to the semi-high point of the story, the thing that leads to the meaning of the title, to the change, to everything.**

**It's kind of short, but it should mean alot.**

**I hope you guys enjoy!**

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Chapter four 

**The assignment.**

The two weeks seemed to go by quickly.

Already it was the second, and last, sunday of his suspension.

Wilbur resisided in his bedroom most of the day, leaving only to eat and visit the bathroom, other then that he stayed put.

Usually on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

It wasen't worth leaving the bedroom, with his father home.

Carl didn't come up alot, he was busy now, helping Cornelius.

Cornelius, Wilbur figured, was stressed.

His job kept him busy, more busy then Wilbur could imagine, he was sure.

His father was constantley in his lab, working. He didn't like to be interrupted, because then he'd lose his place, and have to start again, unless he remembered where he was working on. And Cornelius was tired, Wilbur knew that, his job was asking alot, more then Cornelius could probably give at this point.

And the Time Machine.

Cornelius was still working on that, during the points when work wasen't calling him.

Wilbur had poundered his father's behaviour during his suspension, how Cornelius would alway's be tired, and short tempered.

Should he really blame his father for how he acted?

For the tantrums, for the short fuses, for the tiredness, for being overworked?

Was it even his place?

He doubted it.

He doubted he even had the right to blame his father for anything.

After all, Cornelius w_as _his father, he had every right to do whatever he wanted.

But then the question came up.

_Every right to yell at him? Every right to be so forceful?_

Wilbur would shake his head, to try to forget those questions.

But they would continue to return.

Until Wilbur would give them a answer, they would always return.

Finally, he did.

No, his father did not have a right.

No.

No.

No.

Nobody has a right, regardless of their age, regardless of their point of power.

But...Was it really Cornelius's fault that he was this way?

Maybe.

He did let himself get into this buisness...He does let his temper get away from him, he does let it control him sometimes.

But then...Was it Wilbur's fault his father was like this?

No, he doubted it.

Was it Wilbur's fault that he got in trouble so many times?

No...Wait, yes it was.

He shook his head. Of course it was, he had to take responsibility for that. For his action's.

No matter what, he, _Wilbur, _did not have a right to pull off the stunts he did. He was just a kid. Who, as he said, was misunderstood; but yet, he was a kid, and a child must obey, and he took responsibility for his action's, for his faults, he took responsibility, even though it didn't look it. He didn't show it, but he took responsibility for what he did to Tony, he always took responsibility no matter what, but did his father?

Did Cornelius take blame for what he did, or did he get brush it off his shoulder?

Wilbur sighed, sitting up in his bed, he ran his hand through his raven-black cowlick, and he closed his eyes.

Tomorrow was school.

Tomorrow he'd face all his teacher's again, his studies, possibly Mr. Fiend, and Tony.

That is what he feared.

Tony.

His mother told him not to fear Tony, that would give Tony pleasure. Tony would know he's getting Wilbur riled, and Tony would continue.

But Wilbur, of course, couldn't help it. Tony was much bigger then him, much stronger, and he had his 'bodygaurds', Bruce and Wyatt, with him if he needed backup.

How could he not fear him?

His mother's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Wilbur!"

He looked up, he called back, "Yeah, mom?"

"Sweetie, Carl is serving dinner now; we'd like it if you would join us."

Wilbur sighed, sliding off his bed, and onto the platform.

Hopefully this would be quick, he didn't feel like hanging out with the family for long tonight.

.:J.O.Y Middle School:.

Wilbur had already visited his locker three times, math class once, and Science 101 without a visit from Tony.

Maybe Tony had a longer suspension? Maybe he was sick?

He hoped he was one of those.

Today, luck must have been on his side.

Or so he thought.

When he entered english class, everybody turned and looked at him, and two of those eye's were Tony's.

The stare automatically turned into a deep set glare, and he turned around.

"Well, Mr. Robinson, nice to see you back." Mr. Walsh smiled his old smile. "Please take a seat, you have much work to make up.

"But for now class, I have a assignment for all of you!"

A groan left all of the kid's mouths as they slouched in their chairs, or collapses on their desks.

"Oh, don't be like that, children." Mr. Walsh tsked his tongue.

He walked through the aisle's of desk's, looking everybody over.

"The assignment is a big one, I give you two weeks to complete it. What I am asking, is that you all write a poem."

"A peom?"

"Is that all?"

"This should be easy!"

Mr. Walsh smiled at the remarks. "Yes, a poem. Easy, you say, Annabelle?" He patted her head. "I guess it would be.

After you write the poem's, friday, after school, you will recite your poems to the entire class, and to each and everyone's parents."

The children stopped smiling. "What?" Came the question from almost everybody in the room.

Mr. Walsh smiled, steepling his fingers. "Yes children, you heard me. You will recite your poems to each other, and one anothers parents."

"I am NOT going to do that!" Tony hissed from his seat. "That is bull right there, I refuse to do it."

"Then I will fail you in this class." Mr. Walsh said firmly. "I'll do it Tony."

Tony sneered. "I don't believe you."

"I'm the teacher, Tony, I can do anything." Mr. Walsh said, narrowing his eyes. "Or, as you have put it many times, _I'm bigger and older then you, therefore I can do whatever I want._"

Tony glared at Mr. Walsh, detesting him for using his own words against him.

"Now, I will give you all ten minutes today to right, then we'll go onto our laptops. Time, set, now."

.:Robinson Mansion:.

"Sweetie, what are you writing?"

Wilburs hands immediatley went over his writing, so that his mother could not see. "Nothing!"

Franny gave him a look. "Wilbur, your actually showing interest in school work, I want to see what you are writing, please?"

It was true. He was showing interest, this was the first assignment that had Wilbur bending over his paper and writing.

"No mom!" Wilbur cried. "I can't show you, not now!"

Cornelius looked up from the blueprints he was reading, by the look of his face he looked irritated.

Wilbur automatically regretted working on his paper in the same room as his father.

"Wilbur, let your mother see it-"

"Dad, I can't. Its a secret." Wilbur protested. "You see its-"

"Wilbur, I don't care. You don't keep secrets from us, ever," Cornelius said sternly. "let your mother see it."

"But-"

"Cornelius, its fine. If its secret, and he doesn't want me to see, then I don't need to see it." Franny stepped into the conversation. "Its fine, really,"

Cornelius just huffed. "You know, he'll never really learn if you keep doing that."

"Doing what?" Franny asked, raising an eyebrow and bringing her hands to her hips.

Wilbur sighed outward heavily, he could see there was a fight coming, and he really didn't want to hear it.

It just...wasen't worth it.

He stood up, gathered his items, and carried them out of the room just as his father began to rant on.

This had been going on for almost two years, ever since he began making the time machine.

Always so grouchy, so upset, so angry.

He sighed, now in the living room, he dropped his writing supplies on the coffee table, and sat on the couch.

Truth was, he hadn't wrote anything on his paper.

He had gotten his parents into a fight, for nothing. Now he felt guilty.

He hadn't known what to write. He couldn't think of anything, the ideas that came to mind were stupid.

So very, very stupid.

And the other ideas, well...Nobody wanted to know what went on behind closed doors.

Wilbur gasped.

That was it.

He grabbed his pencil, and his pad of paper, and quickly began scribbling in his boyish hand-writing.

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**Hmmmm, I wonder what 'was it'?**


	5. Behind Closed Doors

**Hey everybody:D **

**Yep, chapter five! I decided to update this sooner, maybe I'll post the next chapter tomorrow. I have alot of free time this weekend. **

**I also wanted to update this quickly because there is only two more chapters left, and I really have to finish ETandDF, and JOY. Stupid multitasking. x)**

**Hope you guys enjoy this semi-short chapter!**

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Chapter Five 

**Behind Closed Doors.**

His nose was almost fully healed now, he didn't need the bandage anymore, and he didn't talk with a squeak.

It only hurt if you poked, or pushed it.

Two things Wilbur didn't let anybody do, ever.

Nobody was alowed to touch his face anymore, unless he knew them well.

It was now thursday of the second week, the next day at 1:45, he'd be in front of his class and his friend's parents, reciting his poem.

Nerveousness had struck him off and on all week, when he thought of what he was to do.

He wasen't very good in front of crowds, only if he closed his eyes, but for this he needed to read and make eye-contact with the audience, a rule that was extremely emportant.

And, he was going to read to them some very personal words.

He glanced over his two page paper, sighing at his words. They weren't very good, he didn't think, just a bunch of sylibals jumbled together by a ten year old.

He was sure his poem would get a select few people angry, and he doubted that anybody's views on him would change after this, but he had to tell his story.

He had to.

Maybe...Just maybe, it would change something?

He sighed deeply.

He highly doubted it.

.:Joy Middle School:.

Wilbur sat on a chair behind the speaker, a young boy in his class named Scott.

He was shaking his leg back and forth, barely listening to the poem about a small boy who was turned into a duck mysteriously, and tried to keep himself from biting his nails.

They were in the gym, since the english classroom was much to small.

At the podium Scott stuttered over his words in nerveousness, beside Wilbur on both side's sat nerveous, scared kids, and before him were three rows, twelve seats in each row.

Wilbur could barely make out his parents until...

He gasped.

There was his fathers spikey blonde hair, his mother sat beside him.

At least he was there.

But...Was that a good thing, or a bad thing?

Finally Scott finished up his poem and stepped down.

"Thank you Scott." Mr. Walsh clapped. "Everybody, please give it up for Mr. Scott Reimer, everybody!"

There was a round of applause as Scott slid away, extremley embarassed.

Two people stood up, the woman was crying happily and taking pictures, the man was blowing through his teeth, cheering for his son.

_Parents. _Wilbur rolled his eyes.

Mr. Walsh looked at his list. "Next...Wilbur Robinson."

He jumped at the sound of his name, then became embarassed when he saw his mother jump up and scream:

"GO TO IT, MY BABY BOY! HOORAY FOR WILBUR!"

He took the paper he hand in his pocket and unfolded it.

He stepped up to the poem and cleared his throat.

"Hello everybody..."

It was so weird.

All those eyes, staring at him. If he did one thing wrong...He'd be scared for life.

They'd laugh at him...He knew it.

If only he had special powers like Carrie White, from that movie Grandmother Framagucci loved.

Gah, he was getting off track.

"..I..I'm Wilbur, as you all know. And I'm going to read you my poem. Its called...Behind Closed Doors." Wilbur blinked a few times, noticing a disaproving glance from his father.

Did he know what the poem was about?

Wilbur cleared his throat again. "Well uh...Here it goes...

"You judge me before you know me,

You call me many names.

Some of you act different towards me,

But many of you act the same.

You call me spoiled rotten,

A lying, nosey brat.

Everybody is always so mean to me,

And I don't lie about that.

If you could spend one day in my house,

One day and nothing more.

You probably wouldn't judge me as much,

If you saw what was behind closed doors.

I don't understand one person,

Who is supposed to be close to me.

I don't hug or talk to him,

He is not very fatherly.

Instead of loving talks at supper,

I get scolded alot more instead.

And if I chalange his authority,

Its without dinner I get sent to bed.

And even though my father,

Works right here at home.

I rarely ever see him.

He resides within his dome.

And if I get into trouble,

Its not just my mom who gets upset.

It is my father also,

And punished is I get.

And even though I tell him,

Each night and everyday.

That I love him more then anything,

He pushes me from his way.

'Get out of my way, Wilbur,

You'll mess this invention up!'

Then he scolds me until I leave,

Scared like a little pup.

Alot of people treat me,

The exact same way he does.

I always why them why they do,

And they always answer 'because'.

That's not a good enough reason,

I again ask them why.

And they say 'because they hate me',

That's my normal day, FYI.

You all say I have money,

And I always get what I want.

But I really dont,

I get jeered, harassed, and taunts.

Now you see, you all don't know me,

But call me what you may.

If this poem doesn't change your views,

Then you may forget today.

Forget this speech, forget this poem,

Forget my heartwrenching words.

Forget the pain inside my heart,

And all its unhappy chords.

Its not alot to ask for,

To ask for a bit of love.

But apparentley its alot for him,

It may be easier to give me a shove.

You all hear this, you don't know me, you won't until

You spend the day within my house, one day and nothing more.

So please do not judge me.

Until you see whats behind closed doors."

He took his eyes away from his paper and looked up.

Mr. Walsh was standing next to him, his eyes wide.

Everybody was staring at him. Just...Staring.

Suddenly his mother stood up and started clapping fiercley, tears streaming down her face. "Bravo!" she cried. "Bravo!"

He could feel his neck and ears growing red with embarassment as everybody in the room started to clap and cheer for his poem.

The poem he thought was stupid, badly writen, dumb.

He gave everybody a grin. "Thanks everyone."

They kepts clapping, and his grin grew.

Everybody liked it, everybody was clapping, everybody was so happy! Except...

His eyes fell upon his father, who was giving him yet another disaproving glance.

He suddenly felt small, that look wasen't a happy one.

Stepping away from the podium, he walked back to his seat. Only a few more people, then he could talk to his mother and...Well, maybe just his mother.


	6. A disapproving glance may not always be

**Hey guy's!**

**Yep, I know. I am way past the date I said I'd update this, but I updated! I've been way busy with school, writing paper's for my english class, and doing a heck-load of algebra, and tests. Plus, my love life has been going stir crazy, so that doesn't help to my writer's block I get often.**

**This is chapter 6, the second to last chapter. Next chapter, yes, will be the last chapter. :'( I know, sad! This chapter is a little short, but I feel it say's what it need's to say, with out it being to long or to short. Y'know what I am saying?**

**So, hope you enjoy this chapter, and hope everyone has a very happy thanksgiving!**

**- Stacey**

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Chapter Six. 

**A disaproving glance may not always be a disaproving glance.**

After the last kid had finished their poem, Mr. Walsh stepped in front of the audience and said, "Well, weren't those nice poems, everybody? Give the kids another round of applause!"

The parents began clapping, some stood up and gave small whistles for their kids, then who sit back down. The kids who hid their face's, or groaned, were clearly the offsprings of those parents.

Mr. Walsh nodded appreciativley. "It takes alot of guts to get in front of a crowd and read, talk even, to everybody. It takes even more then guts to tell everybody what your life is like. That's why I want each and every person in this room to give Mr. Wilbur Robinson another round of applause!"

Everybody began to clap, harder then before.

Parents started standing, kid's in the back row started to stand, and soon everybody in the gym was standing and clapping for Wilbur.

They were actually giving him a standing ovation!

Blushing and smiling from ear to ear, Wilbur nodded and followed his classmate's away from the podium and to their parents.

Wilbur found his in the back, they were both standing together, Franny was looking around for him.

Franny, with tear marks streaked down her face and a tissue in her hand, ran to her son and hugged him; she kissed him and hugged him, causing him to try to squirm away.

"Mo-om!"

"Oh honey, I am so..Oh honey!" Franny said, letting him go and smiling at him. "Wilbur, it must have taken so much for you to say that. I am so proud of you, honey. And - "

She kept on going, drabbling on about how she was proud of him, but Wilbur didn't hear her.

He didn't even notice her.

All he noticed was his father.

Cornelius Robinson was standing at least ten feet from him, staring at the oppisite wall, hand's in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet.

He usually did that when he was either thinking hard, thinking of an invention, or..Wilbur gulped...Angry.

Wilbur squirmed his way from his mothers arm's and silently made his way over to his father.

"Dad - "

Wilbur was cut short as his father shook his head.

Cornelius turned his gaze onto Wilbur, it was a hard, stern gaze that made Wilbur feel uneasy.

Wilbur had a sudden want to protect himself, to go to his mother.

Before his father was suddenly the one place he did not want to be at the moment.

Heck, it was the one place he never wanted to be.

It was awhile before Cornelius spoke, but when he did, his voice sounded raspy, as if he had been...crying?

Wilbur didn't know. He had long ago decided his father did not have the ability to do that, and it made no sense for his father to be doing it now.

"Wilbur...I..." he took a deep breath and took his hands from his pockets, Wilbur flinched naturally at the movement, causing Cornelius to frown. "Wilbur...I'm sorry."

Wilbur blinked, caught off-guard. "What?"

"I said I was sorry." Cornelius repeated.

Wilbur automaticaly stared at his feet, a little, no, very uncomfortable. "Oh..."

Cornelius lay a hand on Wilbur's shoulder, surprised as Wilbur jumped at his touch, and crouched low to his son.

"Wilbur...I didn't realise how much I was hurting you."

"How could you not?" Wilbur asked, looking at his feet. "How couldn't you see how much pain I was in, how many feelings you hurt?"

Cornelius sighed. "Wilbur, you don't understand how busy I am all the time. I don't realise what I am do -"

"I don't understand!" Wilbur spat, pulling away from his father. "What do you mean, 'I don't understand?'"

He looked at his father, completley insulted. "I understand it. I understand alot of things, but you don't understand t_hat_. You treat me like I know nothing."

Cornelius sighed, "now Wilbur - "

"Don't 'now Wilbur' me, dad!" Wilbur said. "You do that all the time!"

Cornelius put his hand on Wilbur's arm, squeezing sternly, as if telling his son to stop it and calm down, and causing Wilbur to pull away just a little.

"Wilbur, I want to talk. You do _not _have to act this way right now. You don't have to give me a second chance as a father, just hear me out. Please?" Cornelius pleaded.

Wilbur stopped and looked his father into his sad, bright blue eye's.

The boy gave a small sigh.

He guessed his father deserved, at least, that.

"Wilbur, I really am sorry. I've had a hard time, the time machine just hasen't been going the way I want. And," Cornelius sighed. "and that is no reason at all for me to treat you like I do, and I know that; you are a good kid, Wilbur, and I haven't been the best father, the poem told me that, and I am sorry for the way I've been treating you. I promise, Wilbur, I'll try to be nicer to you. I will not yell, or hurt you in any phyisical or emotional way, okay?"

The thoughts and memorie's sprang to his head in second's:

A smaller him, cowering by his mother's skirts, as a angry Cornelius yelled at him for touching his tools; a unhappy Cornelius muttering to himself angry words as he tried to fix the time machine, a small Wilbur watching him sadly;

a sniffling and crying Wilbur holding a ball in his much too tiny hands, as his father shake's his head and wags a threatening finger at him, then turns back to his work; a lonely him, a little older, just maybe a year younger then he was now, much too old to cry, standing before his father, staring at his feet, not making eye-contact with the angry father hovering above him.

Wilbur looked at his father for a long time.

It seemed impossible.

Impossible.

Impossible to forgive him at this point.

How could he not hurt him again?

All the pain he drug Wilbur through, all the hurt. The disapointment, the anger, the want, the hunger for love.

He had hurt him before.

It was impossible.

He would just hurt him again, and again, and again, and again.

It seemed it didn't mean anything to Cornelius, all those years, it didn't mean anything to him at all. But they did Wilbur.

How could he forgive him?

Wilbur looked at his hand's, he could feel himself shaking and felt stupid, was he really going to cry in front of so many people?

"Wilbur...?" Cornelius's voice said, bringing Wilbur's eye's up. "I know I don't say this enough, but...I love you, son,"

Within a second it was forgiven, the word's that were said, the harsh scoldings, the heart ache, everything.

Wilbur flung himself onto his father, delivering a much needed and long over-due hug.

Cornelius smiled, throwing his arm's over his small son's body, hugging him back.

"Dad..I love you, too," Wilbur muttered, letting the tears fall freely from his eyes. "..But you know, you're going to have to work hard to regain everything, right?"

Cornelius laughed his deep laugh. "I know son," he chuckled. "I know.

Across from the two, Franny smiled, and gave her husband a curt nod.

Everything was going to be alright.


End file.
